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August 12th  2011    Tim Candler

    Those where the days.  I could remember a telephone number, and I could remember a postal code.  Then out of the blue an officiousness requires at least a zip code in order to conclude a financial transaction.  "It's for your own security," it says.

    For myself, I would feel a great deal safer if I could avoid being reminded that probably  in a month or two I'll be staring at a mirror introducing myself.

      Fortunately I carry bits of information with me at all times.  Not in my brain, you understand, because that place is full up.  But on a piece of paper in the pocket of my go to town trousers.

    Then you wait for the traffic light, trying not to look at the people on their mobile telephones reporting you to world leaders, and you remind yourself to never put your good trousers through the ordeal of a washing.  It's not fair to the trousers nor the content of their pockets.

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